"Did you get it?" I asked as Caera let down the hood of her cloak and closed the door. Her blue hair was clinging wetly to her head, and water dripped from her to pool on the tiles.
"Of course," she said confidently, a mischievous glint in her eye.
With a flourish, she activated her dimension ring and withdrew a pewter-colored orb the size of both my fists held together. The metallic shell was pock-marked and covered in ridges and crevices, making it look like a round metal sponge.
Caera held it out and I carefully plucked it from her grip.
"It's heavy," I commented, shifting it up and down in my hand to feel the heft. "Is that going to matter?"
She unclasped her sopping cloak and hung it by the door. "I certainly hope not. I didn't see any runes that indicated pressure sensitivity engraved on the display pedestal, did you?"
"No, that's true," I replied. "And it seems unlikely the dead relics are removed from their cases often. By the time anyone discovers the switch—"
"Professor Grey and Assistant Professor Denoir will have long since moved on from Central Academy," she finished.
Caera had been surprisingly receptive to my idea. I knew from our adventures in the Relictombs that she had a rebellious and somewhat reckless streak, but I had still expected her to take some convincing. Always perceptive, she understood my intention immediately and was quick to agree. We'd then spent the rest of that afternoon and evening formulating a plan.
Together, we had discussed the strengths of each relic—or at least what we could learn about them from books and Caera's careful questioning of the curator. Personally, I had wanted to take two or three, but Caera had rightly suggested that would add an unnecessary layer of risk. After discussing what the theft would require, we eventually decided on a single dead relic to "liberate" from the Reliquary. Of all the relics available, I didn't see how any single one would give me a sizable boost in power, so we ended up choosing the one that the Alacryans knew the least about, which also happened to be Central Academy's most recent addition.
Although the curator had been quiet on why Scythe Dragoth had brought the orb to Central Academy, he had been more than happy to discuss its powers—what little was known about them—with Caera.
According to the old man, the dead relic was unique in that its form provided no hints about its function. The pock-marked surface wasn't by design, but rather wear; when the relic was first discovered, it was unblemished, a perfect silver sphere, but when removed from the Relictombs it decayed quickly. The Instillers had surmised that it was some kind of tool—perhaps something used in the construction of the Relictombs itself—and the sudden degradation was a kind of defense mechanism to prevent the ancient mages' secrets from being discovered. The curator couldn't provide Caera any more information than that, though.
The idea of having a tool of the djinn, something that would let me manipulate the Relictombs directly, was too good to pass up.
"And you're sure the artisan—"
"It's not unheard of for highbloods to have fake dead relics made in order to impress their friends—and rivals." Caera indicated the orb with a smirk. "She'll be quiet about it, as loose lips, in this case, would likely result in her death."
"Still, if she were to—"
Caera waved my concern away. "I was disguised, as you know, and pretended to be representing a different blood. So even if she did talk, I wouldn't be implicated."
Imbuing my extradimensional storage rune with aether, I stashed the fake relic. "What blood did you impersonate?"
The mischievous glint in Caera's eyes returned. "Oh, I think you know."
Regis barked with laughter, nearly toppling back in his diminutive form. "Serves those Granbehl jerks right. Almost makes you hope this shady craft-lady does turn over on them—or us, or whatever."
I threw my own white cloak over my shoulders, giving Caera an amused smile. "If things do go poorly, at least there will be a silver lining."
Caera pulled out the teardrop pendant she always wore and whispered an incantation. Her features blurred in a way that made my eyes twitch with discomfort, then reformed as the familiar green-haired ascender, Haedrig.
"That is really strange to watch," I said, scanning the face and body for any hint of Caera beneath.
Haedrig cocked out a hip and batted his eyelashes at me. "What's wrong, Grey?" he said in his croaky voice. "Don't you find me attractive anymore?"
Regis walked a slow circle around Haedrig, sniffing at his boots. "I don't know how to feel about it, to be honest. For one, what happens to your boo—"
"Can we maybe be just a little more serious?" I cut in as I pulled up my hood. "We're about to commit a major crime."
Haedrig, who had just conjured a filthy green cloak from his dimension ring, frowned and scratched the stubble on his chin. "Don't know what you're going on about. I'm just going for a stroll over to the Reliquary…"
"Don't mind him," Regis said. "Just pre-larceny jitters."
"Let's get going," I said, gesturing for Regis to return to my body. "The Reliquary should have just closed."
Caera—or Haedrig—led the way out into the hallway that connected the many suites in Windcrest. Haedrig went left, taking a more direct route to the exit, while I turned right, following the roundabout path.
"Yeah, until later…" I said cautiously, flipping up my own hood and turning away.
I couldn't help but harbor some lingering unease about Professor Aphelion's unexpected involvement in the heist, but as far as things that could have gone wrong, it seemed minimally catastrophic.
It was hard to be too worried, considering the prize waiting in my dimension rune.
Chapter end
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